


The Bird asks, the Pan gives

by adam_anellaer



Series: The Bird and the Pan [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3362120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adam_anellaer/pseuds/adam_anellaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are times when the exhaustion is too much to bicker; and that particular day, the hellish island was certainly too hot to fight. So when the circumstances make you quiet down, truths come out more easily.<br/>(If his Wendy-Bird is unhappy, it won't hurt to try and make her happy again... just this once...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bird asks, the Pan gives

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the Darling Pan gift exchange, based on a prompt received on tumblr.  
> First time writing for DP, and I hope you like it :)

One day – who knows how many decades had passed, since the fantasy of a wonderful place called Neverland had been completely shattered by the brutal reality of the jungle-shaped prison – Wendy Darling became _tired_. But not simply drained from all the running, from all the futile attempts of escaping the Boy King who stole her heart way before stealing her freedom; She wasn’t merely exhausted, completely worn-out by the ruthlessness of the beast-like children she once so motherly cared for; And it wasn’t the fact that both her once pristine skin and once pristine manners were now utterly _spoiled_ – blemished by the pure savageness of the island inhabitants, one a dirty map of cuts and bruises, the other subsided by the mere will to survive – that irked her.

Actually, in that damned day, in the middle of that infernal jungle, what was mainly getting to her nerves was the _heat_.

The air itself was so crushingly humid _(more water than oxygen! It was like drowning on land!)_ , and so dense and heavy on top of the girl’s bare shoulders, that it felt as if she couldn’t even breathe! So, with bare feet sinking deeply on a moss-covered floor, Wendy marched, panting all the way, not even noticing the foliage moving in order to let her through.

“How can he even bear this! Doesn’t it get in the way of his games? It’s impossible for anyone to do anything but lie still with this heat!” she huffed to herself, a wild mane of unruly curls in a frizzled halo surrounding a flushed and sweaty face.

In her despair, she even pondered bathing in the clear shores of the Mermaid Lagoon, and it wasn’t the prospect of being dragged to the cool depths of the ocean that dissuaded her from such endeavors. It was just that it was _too far_ , and she probably would just collapse on the way there. In fact, simply collapsing was exactly what she felt like doing right now! Who knew when she would next find a cool pool in which she could simply refresh herself? The island was always changing, morphing to fit its master’s moods and whims. For all she knew, that despicable boy could have merely decided to torture them all! He was probably enjoying himself very much, watching them pant and sweat in this damp inferno, from a high branch somewhere.

But Wendy had enough of it!

“I bet he’s snickering right now!” she muttered, letting herself slide down a clammy tree trunk, until she finally rested on the forest’s floor, the ever-present greenish mist surrounding her.

And in the middle of her pure desperation, without thinking much of it, she opened her dirt-baked palm and pictured with all her strength, imagining every detail, believing things into existence. When the biting cold of it stung her scorching skin, she smiled.

There, in her hand, rested a perfectly fragile snowflake.

The frosty feeling of it made something in her chest clench a little, and she quickly blinked.

But if she wasn’t so marveled, the girl would have remembered it to be as ephemeral as it was beautiful. So, not a second had passed and all that there was left was a single drop of water, which quickly faded into the air, reuniting with the moisture all around.

“Oh, how I miss the snow!”

But as soon as the sighed whimper left her lips, Wendy stiffened, orbs wide open as she realized her mistake. And as the realization hit her, a mocking voice spoke from the branches above.

“Well, well, look who’s a whining little _girl_!” he scorned from the foliage. Though, the tone in which he spoke, breathless and hoarse, made said female smirk in contentment. He seemed as pestered by the weather as she was! _Good_.

He continued, casually jumping to the ground below, landing in silence on the rich soil before her.

“I was fairly impressed by your little trick back there, with the piece of frost. Quite a will power!” the ever boy drawled, crocked eyebrow and crocked lips in some sort of pleased recognition towards the girl seated quietly against the tree. Then, suddenly, he stopped in his tight passing and glared at her, fist clenched by his side. “But then you had to ruin _everything_!”

His distasteful snarl made the leaves tremble in their branches, and any other time Wendy would have tensed before such display of anger.

But with incredibly red cheeks and transpiring profusely, she couldn’t care less what Pan thought of her or her _private_ display of homesickness. _Getting oxygen out of this impossibly humid air is more important!_

“What do you want, Peter? Don’t you have those followers of yours to play with? Or even the Lost Ones were stopped by this hell?”

He tried to keep his glare steady. He did! However, it seemed that even for the Great Pan, the ruler of a kingless island, too much was too much.

So, with the climate absorbing all their liveliness and droplets trickling down their foreheads, the boy heavily let himself drop right next to his bird, he too resting his head on the green trunk, not even bothering to answer her question.

“Tell me, darling,” he started, in that quiet tone only Wendy heard, late at night in the darkness of her tree house, when the day had tired them both enough to call truce on their incessant game of cat and mouse, “why do you keep remembering your life from _before_ , before you came here? That way you’ll be sad, you’ll ‘miss’ things…”

He hissed the word with some kind of confusion, like he had never experienced such _vulgar_ feeling before and he couldn’t really grasp what it meant. The ever-boy continued.

“Why can’t you be here, with both body _and_ mind? All the others do!” his brow kept furrowing as if he struggled, truly struggled, to understand.

He sat up then, staring at her with the intensity of someone trying to peek into another’s soul.

“Why are you always flying away?”

And for the first time since he appeared, the girl moved her eyes towards his, and almost gasped at what she saw.

It seemed he was indeed trying to comprehend; like _him_ , of all people, was trying to see things from her perspective! The mere thought made her both want to cry and laugh. Because first, how could it be that the mighty Pan was trying to put himself in someone else’s shoes, and second, _how did he, after all this time and all their fights, simply not get it?_

So, instead of remarking that the chafe was probably getting to him, Wendy Darling sighed the obvious truth:

“Because I’m not happy here…”

Peter was silent for a moment.

And the imprisoned bird realized that the simple answer had actually caught him out of guard, as if in all his childish arrogance, he hadn’t even _considered_ that possibility.

Then a flash of hurt changed his expression, eyes glazing over and brow furrowed in confusion.

Such sight didn’t last long.

Faster than she could imagine, his eyes were icy cold again, face schooled into an equally cold indifference.

He got up rigidly, and without sparing the seated girl one last glance, he vanished out of thin air, only swirling green mist where he had been.

Behind, still resting on Neverland's soil, Wendy Darling panted, but now for a whole different reason.

Her capturer’s pained look kept replaying in her mind. And if she wasn’t a foolish, _foolish_ girl, she would have found such revelation a newfound advantage over the mighty Pan. Or simply gotten glad that she'd managed to wound his humongous ego in some form!

But not even after so long – so many nightmarish days spent in this damned island with the almost constant attention of its cruel inhabitants – did the Bird’s bright core succumb to the place’s ruthlessness. Because, for better and for worse, Wendy Darling was a kind soul, and if she had indeed, over the years, built a sturdy armor to protect her precious heart from the carelessness of its owner, the tender interior remained soft and caring. (If that was a weakness or an improbable strength, it remained unseen.)

Either way, when the scorching sun finally gave place to a stuffy night, Peter’s hurt expression was probably as much of a stab in her kind chest as her raw answer was a stab to his…

So that evening she went to bed with guilt churning in her core: guilt for having hurt the haughty boy’s feelings and guilt for feeling guilty over that.

He didn’t invade her tree house. Wendy preferred not to dwell much on what she felt about that.

Instead, the little bird flew away again, in the only way she was allowed...

She recollected her days of ‘before’, pictured all her family on their walks through the Kensington Gardens, when the entire park was covered in a glistening blanket of pure white. Wendy imagined herself there in that moment, grabbing handfuls of snow to throw at John, aiming right at the head, much to her mother’s dismay; or making snow-angels with Michael, or riding and improvised sleigh with Nana barking happily in the front!

And Peter was wrong, because she didn’t feel sad for reviving those long lost times when she was cheerful! _(The problem would come when she was confronted with reality. ~~Then the boy would be right…~~ )_

It was great indeed, the little bird’s will power…

There, in her bed, she believed with _such strength_ in her memories of happiness that for a few precious hours she was happy too. Because soon, memories mixed with dreams, and, for _one_ night, Wendy Darling managed to escape Neverland’s grasp.

But, sooner or later, one has to wake up…

…

..

.

Wendy Moira Angela Darling came out of her daze slowly, softly; so softly that she couldn’t be sure if she had truly woken up or simply slipped into a different kind of dream. Her eyes opened leisurely, lashes bating against freckle-covered cheeks. And what she saw made her believe that what had taken place was the second option.

The light entered limpidly through the window, illuminating the small tree-house in a soft glow. Though… this _wasn’t_ the usual scorching glare that penetrated even the thickest canopy of a dense jungle, sunrays still intense when they hit the ground. Instead, it was a more pale kind of luminosity, dim almost, but certainly clear. There were no sharp contrasts, the shadows smoothly transiting into the light.

It was… extremely _familiar_ … like she had, once upon a time, expected such luminosity every time she opened her eyes in the morning. It felt like ho-

Wendy almost stumbled out of the bed, white sheets getting all tangled up in hurried limbs, a quick shudder crawling up her spine the moment the sole of her feet touched the gelid floorboards. She walked hesitantly, one dainty step after the other, towards the window of her tree house, trembling breath coming out of her lungs in a thick cloud.

One single hand extended to clear the fogged glass, the biting coolness of it seeping into her skin. What she saw next, through the rounded section, made her gasp.

Clumsy feet rushed to the small door that now did little in keeping the frigid air outside. A cool gust of wind hit the girl, right in the face, when her fingers pulled the handle just the slightest, golden curls swirling behind her.

Wendy gasped, again, in a shocked kind of happiness. It was the greatest air she had breathed in _decades_!

The skies - cast in a soft grey blanket that reminded the London girl so much of her former home - sprinkled white dancers all over the land!

Though… not really over the entire land… If she squinted enough, her bluish orbs could faintly distinguish the piercing strength of Neverland’s sunlight past the heavy snowfall, splashing its brightness in the lush green of the thick jungle.

It seemed, as strange as it was, that the blizzard fell only on a limited area around Wendy’s tree-house. It only served to remind the girl of the peculiarity of the island, bringing that gleam of wonder to her eyes once again.

But the Darling’s eldest daughter chose only to enjoy the rare climate irregularity that was taking place. So with laughter light on her lips, she extended her milky palms, trying catch the perfect flakes midflight. They landed on her hair, they landed on her lashes, they landed on her bare freckled shoulders, more pure than the white of her nightgown ever was. 

And so wonderful was her delight that each new bite from another drop of frost, instead of causing shudders and discomfort, brought only giggles and ever brighter smiles to her lips.

The girl was drawn back by a sound that rang both familiar and dreadful: the shouts and loud jeering of thoughtless _boys_. The mere sound of their laughs brought such panic to her heart that the bird’s first instinct was to hide. So it is quite understandable that it took our poor Wendy some time to notice the difference in their exclamations.

With cautious movements, the only girl ever to set foot on the island slowly climbed down the ladder towards the now snow-covered floor. And she had to admit, as beautiful as it was, the icy feeling on her bare feet as they sunk so deep that her reddened ankles disappeared under the white blanket was not that comfortable. But still, it was with a marveled smile that she pushed her way through the Winter Wonderland. And it was as _wonderful_ as she remembered…

When she finally reached the clearing from where the amused hollers came from, Wendy Darling had to pause for a second, still in the safe coverage of the forest, observing the scene before her.

The boys laughed and played, chasing each other, throwing snowballs with the same savageness every naïve young male has. They seemed almost _children_ , simply having fun on a snow day, and not the ruthless beasts the island made of them. So their Mother came out of the shadows, wanting to seize the lightness in the moment while it lasted.

Wendy moved towards the crowd, lips ever stretched and avid eyes trying to take in the beauty of it all, struggling to save it in the preciousness of her memories.

The snow kept falling, covering her in a frosted veil, cold yes, but surely magnificent!

And then, just as her irises had begun ~~eagerly~~ roaming the group, _he appeared_ , heavily marching towards her. The girl (wrongly) assumed that it was just the snow impeding his stride.

“Oh, Peter!” she started, delighted, going to the boy. “It is simply wonder-”

“Just don’t ever say you _miss_ _something_ again.”

He didn’t slow down, not even sparing her a look; the boy simply threw the hissed words at her and marched on, arms embracing is own self so to preserve the heat, moving towards more normal parts of the Neverland jungle.

The girl just stayed frozen in place, following with a confused gaze the path made by his footsteps just before it faded away, covered in new layers of white.

Suddenly, she felt the heavy weight of a cape being dropped on her exposed shoulders, and was immediately thankful for the cozy warmth it provided.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, her eyes never leaving the spot in which he had disappeared in the foliage.

“I don’t think he likes the cold.” Felix simply muttered from her side, he too gazing in the same direction. And before she could ask, the blond continued. “Not all associate it with happy memories, Wendy. For most of us, winter was, above all, a harsh, _harsh_ season…”

And the girl stopped for a second, for the first time that morning staring at her friend’s scarred face, and remembered that the boys where called Lost for some reason. There was a reason they had given their complete loyalty to Pan; for them, he was not the devil that held her there against her will! Peter Pan was their savior…

But it seemed that he couldn’t save them, or _him_ for that matter, from their horrid past.

“Well, I think that ought to be changed!” the girl huffed, and without a second thought, she marched after the grumpy Boy-King.

Behind stayed the Knight, shaking his head at the entire situation. However, a hopeful smirk did curl his lips, for if anyone could change the stubborn boy at all, it would be the kind Queen. (She already did.)

…

..

.

“Don’t you want to come and play with the boys?”

Wendy’s voice sounded quiet, with a certain dose of uncertainty, from behind him. The seated boy merely arched an eyebrow as he glanced at her snow-covered and shivering form, standing there amidst all that green.

“Shouldn’t you be playing then? It’s what you asked for, isn’t it?” he began, using his dagger to sharpen a wooden spear, trying to look very busy. “Or now the little Bird wishes for something else?”

The girl said nothing, simply stepping closer to him, falling softly on her knees on the warm glass. The bright sun started melting whatever ice she had brought with her.

“You know what I want, Peter… I wish for you to come too, to have fun with us!” she spoke quietly, rolling stems of flowers between her fingers. “And I hope you see how thankful I am in my willingness to admit it! You were nice enough to receive my honesty.”

However, the other didn’t even stir, and that made Wendy frown. The Pan wasn’t known for ignoring a compliment, or a confession of need, _especially_ if it came from his stubborn little Bird. His ego was much too big for that. And here he was, seemingly deeply concentrated in sharpening that piece of wood, a deep furrow in his brow.

His silence made the girl jump to her feet with an insulted huff.

“Well,” she said, composedly brushing the leaves of her nightgown, “you can stay here and sulk like a little kid all you want, see if I care! Thanks, Peter Pan, thank you for the snow. But know I’m going to follow the boys’ example and simply have an awful good time in it!”

She tried to shake of all the water that now damped the cape Felix had given her, and proceeded in throwing it over her exposed shoulders once again.

“I’m even surprised you let them play without you.” she mumbled, knowing perfectly well he could hear her and not knowing if she would regret later that day her attempts at riling him up. “I would expect you to simply make them stay here with you, in this horrid heat!”

He threw her a murderous glare from under his bangs; Wendy smacked her lips, in order to hide the twitching little smirk that was trying to bloom. Yes, she was a foolish, foolish girl...

So the Darling slowly retreated, ready to forget the sulking boy with a good snowball fight.

But then, as if she had some masochistic trait, like she was stupid enough to poke the short-tempered not-king until he snapped and lashed all his anger on her, she turned around and,

“Why do you hate winter so much, anyway?" she huffed. _Why did she even care?_ But her mouth just kept going. "Yes, I know, sometimes the cold can bother, but snow can be beautiful too! And fun!"

And an endless row of arguments was about to come out of her parted lips, if not for the boy’s sudden bark.

“Winter is _death_!” he snapped, irritated, clenched teeth and icy eyes. “The cold kills while the sun brings _life_. Everything loses its color, everything simply withers away, and there’s _nothing_ you can _do_ to stop it!”

Wendy stopped, for a fraction of second, taken aback by his unending arrogance. ( _That’s what you become when living on an island where everything, including the weather, answers to your every whim!)_

“Well, that’s Nature to you! It _changes_!”

At her breathless statement, he stopped doing whatever it was he was pretending to do. The spear split in half, crushed by the mere force of his frustration. 

“ _I_ don’t _change_! _Neverland_ doesn’t _change_!”

And that was a fundamental truth in Peter Pan’s existence. It was both what made him unique and his fatal flaw.

“But Peter, everything will be born again when spring comes!” Wendy stated, in that kind comforting tone of hers. That was the Mother in her emerging from the depths of her tender heart. “That’s just… that’s just _life_! It’s how it is! Things are born, they _grow_ and they _die_!”

“I don’t! I’m the boy who will _never grow up_! Peter Pan never fails!”

Wendy Darling had heard those same words innumerous times, and every time she heard them leave his lips in that confident, controlled way, the girl felt the unquenchable urge to roll her eyes. But this time, it only made her fell incredibly sad... it reminded her of her own unchanging fate too; his triumph was her loss.

“Your existence itself is a failure!” Wendy shouted, with gleaming eyes, trying to once and for all put some sense in the egotistical boy’s head. Might as well take the chance and spit it all out while he’s being so incredibly tolerant! So she continued, marching towards the boy, truths coming out of her like vomit.

“If it weren’t for that Believer of yours, your existence would have no purpose! Events became meaningless to you, when compared to eternity. You’re limited, you’re deficient. Because what more is out there for you to experience as a boy? Always the same island, always the same games! Don’t you ever get bored?”

“No!” he answered right away, as if he had rehearsed that same lie over and over again, to himself.

“Well, I _do_ …" and then, as if the fire within her was suddenly extinguished, the Darling girl let out a deep sigh. It reminded her of how _aged_ she was. "I get tired…”

She let herself fall again, next to the boy.

“We’re stuck, Peter… You and I. Both much older than what we seem, but always barred to whatever more there is ahead…” and she sighed, lying back on the soft grass, by now speaking more to herself than the incredibly quiet boy besides her. “And it is really _tiring_.”

The silence lasted more than any of them could tell. After some time the Bird thought Peter had vanished and the boy believed her to be asleep.

But then, as if struck by a sudden surge of energy, Wendy jumped right to her feet, almost starling a deep in thought boy, determined not to waste more a single second of her eternity.

“Well, I must give Felix back his cape. He must be freezing by now!” she stated cheerfully, as if they hadn’t been discussing deep existential matters just some minutes ago.

She was just about to hop and skip all the way back to her personal Winter Wonderland, when something made her turn back to the not-king, hurriedly.

“Thank you for the snow, though. It was really sweet!”

And with that she lowered swiftly and planted a quick thimble on the boy’s cheek.

Pan took a moment to react, but when Wendy was just about to disappear deep into the Neverland jungle, his voice came.

“Just be warned that if you all get about to die of hypothermia, there will be no healing from me. I’ve done enough good actions for a century!”

And the girl smiled to herself, hearing with satisfaction the mirth in his voice, knowing instantly that his smirk was barely hidden too.

“I won't help you!”

And Wendy turned, a bright smile stretching her lips.

“Of course you won’t!”

 

He did.

**Author's Note:**

> Would you like me to continue this? Maybe with Wendy and the boys indeed getting sick and Peter having to do something about it?
> 
> Please review :)


End file.
